


Sunshine and Tomatoes

by Aromarrym



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Awkward situations, First Date/Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Memes, Misunderstandings, Oneshot collection, Romerica, Romerica Exchange 2016, Romerica Week 2016, friendship/romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-12 23:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7954087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aromarrym/pseuds/Aromarrym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From first meetings, sweet kisses and destined soulmates; what's a happy-go-lucky blue-eyed superpower and southern Italian nation to do? Join America and Italy Romano on this rollercoaster of tsundere confessions, misunderstandings and ridiculous memes. Romerica Week 2016, shounen ai</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. French Fries and Grease

**Author's Note:**

> Aiyaa, Aroma is writing again! Hurrah, hurrah! This is a new experience, whoop!
> 
> Oh man, I’ve been so looking forward to this week, and even though it’s totally late, I’ve got to have this up today! Hopefully I’ll get to art tomorrow. Oh Mondays... 
> 
> This week just happens to be the assigned week for the Romerica Exchange on Tumblr, and like the fail I am, I am participating! WE NEED MOAR ROMERICA AFTER ALL ❤︎ Damn it, these two weirdos.
> 
> HOORAY FOR ROMERICA, MY CURRENT PHASE! I regret everything but I may as well celebrate my birthday week with style XD I'll accept tomatoes (I'll give them to Roma) for being a trash shipper and person in general, hah! Have fun reading!
> 
> ********************
> 
> Day 1: French Fries and Grease
> 
>  **Summary:** Travelling by public transport on a Monday morning is bad enough — Lovino does not need some terrible-smelling idiot to make it worse. For Day 1 prompt: First Meetings. Warning for vulgarity, moody!Lovino and stressful university tiems.

It is fucking **too** **early** for this.

Sure, the sun's kind of up — barely risen actually; curse daylight saving periods for making it so dark at 6:30am in the morning on a sad, _sad_ Monday. Still. The rising sun doesn't mean it's any good to be awake at this goddamning hour. You could only imagine what he's been through, having to do this every fucking week on a two hour sleep schedule. Please have mercy on his poor soul.

Lovino was actually contemplating on skipping his college classes today, but he's already so far behind in lectures. There's that assignment he has to do that's due tomorrow, not to mention the progressive IT portfolio he's barely started and it's due by the end of the week. Then there's his C++ programming portfolio which was due _last week_ and he's not sure is worth completing anymore. Don't get him started on _3D animation_. And that darn three hour workshop he has to attend _tomorrow_ in preparation for his internship _,_ for fuck's sake _._

Long story short, the brown-haired Italian is drowning in stress, projects and suffering from inevitable insomnia. The simplest of unpredictable and undesirable situations can set him off.

Like the godawful stench and unwanted presence of the _idiota bastardo_ who, of all the places in this barely empty train, has decided to fucking sit next to him.

Let's backtrack all the way to 4:30, which, sadly for the brunette, is his normal Monday wake up time. He's got an alarm for an hour before the time he's supposed to be up to catch the bus _just because_ it pleases him to know that he still has time to sleep in. Although Lovino normally catches the 5:30 bus to the train station, he really just wants to ( _die right now_ ) stay in bed a bit more, all snuggled up in his sheets and that one extra pillow he _pretends_ he doesn't like to cuddle. Lucky Feliciano and his normal 9am-3pm high school day.

Whilst his younger brother remains asleep in the room adjacent to his, Lovino has to rush around to grab muffins and a bottle of chocolate milkshake from the cupboard (damn it, no more microwaveable pasta in the freezer? Great, just _greaaaat_ ), shove his laptop into his bag which he left in the lounge yesterday, _brush_ his teeth, change his clothes, _style_ his hair, put on his shoes, _grab_ his notebook on the dining table **and** bolt through the door, making sure he at least locked it once from the outside. In his haste, he manages to forget his USBs by the bedside which he told himself HE NEEDED for his programming portfolio, but it's too late to return now because the 5:50 bus has just arrived.

God damn it, god damn it, god damn it! But at least the bus driver's friendly when he struggles to tap his travel card on the scanner. Not that it makes him any less disappointed in himself though (screw his sleep-deprived forgetfulness). When he's finally seated, Lovino pulls out his phone from his pocket and tunes in to his favourite playlist, hoping he could power nap on the way to the train station. Fuck it, he still has to catch said train to the city and a tram to his university, the journey being approximately two hours. He's had no breakfast, no coffee, and he's definitely _not ready_ for the stupid 8am 3D animation class he has on first.

Twenty minutes later, Lovino is grumpily trudging up the stairs to the station and pacing around irritably (with a hand covering his mouth because seriously, **seriously?** Who smokes a fucking cigar at this hour and in close distance of other, non-smoking individuals?) before hopping into the express route city train. _Santo dio._

An advantage of being up this early though is that most of the time, there are hardly any passengers around. It's already bad enough that he has to take _public_ transport, and to actually have to interact with people is just asking for too much. But he must have spoken (thought?) too soon about it, because three stops into his train journey, some douchebag ignorantly plops his fat behind ON his bag (LAPTOP! IN! BAG! GOD! There is a reason the Italian put it beside him, and it's so NO ONE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND would sit next to him! Go find another fucking seat damn it, there's plenty of spaces around). Lovino doesn't even have the energy to verbally complain as he roughly yanks his bag from under the idiot and glares at the half-hooded stranger with unbridled malice. But of course. The guy doesn't care, what with being too busy doing shit on his phone. Bastard.

"Haha! That's right! Gimme more experience baby! No... no no no no no! Oh _come on_ , that's so unfair! You're seriously— nah. That's it. You're dead. Take this, and THIS! AND THIS! FEEL MY POWER HAHAHAHA!"

Oh great, he's sitting beside an American. An **awful-smelling** American. And ugh, what is THAT? Is that— is that even... fuck, he doesn't even know. Lard or... grease or... whatever the hell. It's the scent of fried potatoes and beef that sets the brunette off the most because it reminds him of his younger brother's excuse of a best friend. GROSS.

Honestly, who smells like this? What the heck has this guy been eating? Fine, fine, Lovino probably smells like tomato sauce time and time again, but at least he remembers to change his clothes and shower. Can't be putting off the ladies or potential love interests and disregarding proper hygiene despite his love for said food.

...BLESS HIS SOUL, WHAT IS AIR.

"Hooooh yeah... Next quest, next quest! Damn this raid boss is a piece of cake."

Even with his music playing in full volume, he can still hear the idiot guffaw annoyingly. For goodness sake, it's too distracting to power nap at this rate. With a deep breath in and out (his travel mate's smell is unbearable, this is _punishment_ for his sins, isn't it?) Lovino turns to the fogged up window, intending to ignore the bastard. It's just too bad that as he is about to close his eyes, he's suddenly elbowed in the back, _hard_.

.

.

...That's it.

Lovino is dead tired and cranky; he can't be held accountable for his actions from here on out.

" _Vaffanculo_ , is it really so hard to sit still and be quiet? There are other people on this train besides you, can you shut the heck up and stop moving? And for the record, you bastard, you smell like shit! Be considerate and take a shower next time, both for yourself and the people who are forced to be around you. And don't sit on people's bags, damn you! Go find your own seat!"

The guy actually turns to him like he's the one in the wrong, one hand pulling his hood off and readjusting his headphones. An electric blue-eyed, pretty-faced bespectacled blonde stares back at him, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Um, you say something man? Sorry, I was in the middle of this game. Can you repeat that?"

**OH HELL NO, HE'S HOT!**

...Okay, just because the guy looks _damn fine_ minus the ridiculous clothing choice, doesn't mean Lovino'll let him off easy. Stupid random American and his healthy tanned skin and glossy lips and nice looking hair. He's probably a freshman in college judging by the small satchel he has with him, not to mention how naïve and hyperactive he seems to be. The train slowly halts for the latest stop and more people begin to file in after each other.

"You heard me, you idiot. You. SIT FUCKING STILL. And s-shut the hell up! Y-You're too loud and it's t-too early for your bullshit, damn it! People are trying to sleep!"

"Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning..."

The Italian pinches the bridge of his nose. "No fucking shit! Now if you'll excuse me, bastard, I need to power nap. I'll put it nicely for your incomprehensible mind and tell you to please _move_ elsewhere because you stink! There's still enough room you know!"

The dumb blonde actually looks around before pointing to himself. "Do you mean me?" He raises an arm to his face and sniffs his own jacket, shrugging listlessly. "Hey, I totally washed this yesterday, so I have no idea what you're talking about. But totally sorry man. These headphones are noise-cancelling, I sometimes forget I can't hear myself. I'll stop moving and be quiet so you can go right ahead and sleep." Lovino's flashed with a cheesy smile — c-cheh, like that's gonna work on him. The idiot's gorgeous but he ain't worth shit if he's pissed Lovino off.

"No, damn it. I want you _to move_. AWAY. Even if I go to sleep I won't be able to stand your crappy potato lard smell. MOVE."

"But— but I'm already on this one! I'd have to—" the American scans the area, "...w-walk all the way to the other side of the compartment! Besides... I don't smell that terrible, do I? That's probably just you."

"Yes you do. Do us both a favour and move."

"Aww... But I like sitting here. I promise I won't be a bother, I get off at the city stop which isn't far from here now so you won't even know I was here to begin with. Plus, it's not everyday I sit next to someone _cute_ on public transport after all..." The blonde whispers the last sentence to himself before turning his attention back to his game.

_...H-H-Huh?_

Holy Roma, it is definitely way too early for this because Lovino could have sworn Mr-I-Smell-Like-French-Fries just called him cute. He feels his face heat up and curses silently because goodness gracious, he's probably already dead and this is hell (Not that that was much of a problem; he'd give anything to avoid his college work, to be honest. Between a stinky gorgeous American boy and homework, he'll gladly pick the former).

Pinching himself a second time in an attempt to face reality, Lovino then kicks at the guy's leg for the stupid comment. "Don't say stupid shit, you _cazzo_!" Hopefully the train ride will really be over soon and he doesn't have to see the douchebag's face ever again. Cute, his arse. The blonde's dumb and blind, as if he'd ever listen to anything the stranger says...

"Hey, that hurt, what gives?"

"If you moved elsewhere you wouldn't have gotten kicked now, would you? It's all your fault, cheh! What is it with you Americans and your fries and shit! Making excuses, being so noisy... You don't smell pasta on me and I eat it all the time!"

The blonde makes to sniff the air around the Italian, leaning closely. "Nah, you smell pretty nice, actually. _Hmm..._ What kind of cologne do you wear?"

"THAT'S BESIDES THE POINT!" Lovino chastises, voice tone as controlled and collected as possible to avoid attracting any more attention. Already there are people around eyeing the two of them weirdly, damn it. " _Oddio,_ you've completely fucked up my morning. Just— just shut up and don't do anything until I get off this damn train and away from you, Troy or John or whatever you're called—"

"Alfred."

"Alfred, what-fucking-EVER." The brunette's legs are getting sore with the weight of his bag so he repositions it while leaning his head on the cold glass of the train window. He sees a long dark wall running past the outside of the train as it moves — finally underground and heading for the city station, thank goodness. The tap on his shoulder is easier to ignore when he puts his earphones back on and fiddles with his phone to skip to a better song.

Unfortunately the shoulder tapping doesn't stop.

"Oi, what do you want NOW?" hisses Lovino, eyebrows furrowing even when Alfred the French Fry Guy's face falls and he pouts, looking hurt.

"Umm, uhh, I feel kinda bad for being the cause of someone's bad morning so. I know this is probably a bad idea but. Maybe I could make it up to you, even though I still don't understand why you think I smell bad," The green-eyed Italian eyes him suspiciously.

"So, uhh, you won't mind if I treat you coffee once we get off, yeah? I dunno if you've tried the CBD Starbucks but I hear they're selling Butterbeer latte." When Lovino scrutinizes him further, Alfred elaborates, "Yaknow, like the one from The Wizarding World?"

"What _sane_ person would want to hang out with you? Have you ever been taught not to talk to strangers, you fool?"

"Err... Well, I told you my name so I guess that makes us acquaintances now." The blue-eyed blonde concludes, grinning like there's no tomorrow. In all fairness, he has straight shiny teeth, and if the brunette didn't have a bad first impression of the guy, he'd probably be more interested.

Not that... he was _already_ interested, psssh, this guy, really? Alfred the French Fry Guy? Pffft, yeah right, he's Italian, he has better taste in people than this loser. Plus he's kind of pissed at the arsehole which makes this Starbucks treat thing an even bigger NO.

But then again he could really use a free energy boost...

Wrapping his earphones around his phone before pocketing it, Lovino readies himself to leave the slowing train for the city stop. "Just so you know, I'm picking the most expensive thing on the menu so your offer to treat me should still stand. I'm not agreeing to this because I _like_ you; I happen to be really tired and my class starts in an hour and you owe me my power nap time, damn it! I don't like you AT ALL! And I'd rather you smell like shit coffee than potatoes, bastard!"

The aforementioned potato-smelling freak has the gall to laugh. "Alright, uhh— Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"It's Lovino, damn you. You better get it memorized, you idiot."

" _Lovino._ " Alfred repeats. "Alright, fine by me."

.

.

When they hop off the train together, much to Lovino's disappointment, they head for the same popular coffee branch and line up beside one another. So maybe the brunette hates the greasy smell of the idiot, but it beats having to buy his own food and now he has a valid excuse to be late to class. No, he doesn't turn scarlet red when Alfred writes his number on the tissue he's given before saying goodbye. No, he's still mad about the train incident and this vanilla bean mocha frappuccino tastes like crap. But at least, dare he say it, this Monday's been less _intense_ than the other Mondays and... well, he wouldn't mind having a morning travel buddy if only to make them more bearable.


	2. Third Wheel, Fourth Wheel, Ferris Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Third Wheel, Fourth Wheel, Ferris Wheel
> 
>  
> 
>  **Summary:** Tagging along for their brothers' dates was inevitably a bad idea.

America and Romano should have never come.

At first, the prospect of having fun at an amusement park where there were endless rides (and lines), food (and more lines) and a dozen of opportunities to make wonderful memories sounded delightful. America, of course, was all up for hunting down the thrill rides and participating at every stall he could lay his eyes upon. Romano, on the other hand, only agreed to come along because anything relatively fun for the potato bastard and his idiot brother was bound to end in chaos one way or the other, plus he was needed to mediate should that freak Germany have any ulterior motives for his brother's protection. Stupid Veneziano and his life partner choices.

There there was the fact that it was THE LAND OF DREAMS AND HAPPINESS they were talking about. Who passes up the opportunity to go to THAT? They may have lived several centuries but no one SAYS no to a trip to Disneyland. At least, no one sane would.

But now they are suffering the consequence of being, as France would say, _tenir la chandelle._ Not that holding candles was bad or anything — they didn't really know much about it. Damn their brothers for being incredibly convincing at the moment.

_Come on, there'll be pasta! Germany and I wouldn't mind if you join us!_

_I'm kind of not used to crowds, America, you think maybe you can show us around?_ Heh!

So while Prussia and Canada and Veneziano and Germany rub their noses against each other's respectively as they wait for the line to advance, America and Romano are standing idly, not really sure what to do.

For some coincidental reason, both couples had wanted to ride _Mickey's Fun Wheel_ at the same time. Neither one knows the other are there, so their places in line are different, albeit relatively _close_ to one another. It's nearing sundown — the absolute best time to ride a ferris wheel as the park lights around begin to illuminate one by one (painting said world of dreams into multitudinous bursts of colour), plus the lines aren't as unbearably long as the lines are when it's evening.

They've been standing by for... fifteen minutes maximum in the express lane (thank goodness for Disney's FastPass; you should see the ACTUAL line which extends along endless rails of agony) when the line moves further and the six countries are ushered through throngs of advancing people. America busies himself by talking over people's conversations, questioning the self-proclaimed awesome Prussia about this and that. South Italy's playing the glare game. The older Italian nation wonders if it's possible to burn the back of a certain German _culo's_ head just by intensely staring. Veneziano's _ve_ -ing as he clings oh-so-closely to the latter is absolutely sickening, ugh.

"Can't this line get any faster, damn it? I want to go home and eat real pasta! The plate they served me tasted like a pile of _merda_ , I sure as hell ain't going back. Some Italian excuse of a food installment they are."

North Italy begs to differ. "I liked it. They had chili flakes in my garganelli and it was great. Could use some more parmesan though, but even Germany here liked it. Right, right?"

"Ya." The blue-eyed nation responds.

"Ve, fratello, I can't wait to tell brother France all about Disneyland! Next time ve, you should come along with someone too! It's always fun to have more friends!" Translation: _you need a love life Romano and I'm kind of sorry that it's been just me and my big scary boyfriend the entire day._ Land of dreams and happiness? More like _dead dreams_ and _depressing dispositions_.

Another thing about being awkward third wheels? Having to back away from the couple you're third wheeling when it matters. The look that Canada gives his brother when he and Prussia step into the carriage when it's their turn is so apologetic it's offending. "Alfred, is it alright if Gil and I—"

"Huh?"

"—er, you know, um. Have this carriage? See uhh, you've been awesome the entire day—"

Prussia cuts in, "Hey, not as **awesome** as me, right love?"

"—Um yeah," Canada continues, "of course. But—"

The extremely patient ride conductor already knows what the violet-eyed blonde is talking about because he announces a, "Is anyone out riding single who would like to join this gentleman over here?" to the crowd before America could answer back.

"Oh." He fixes his glasses and smiles. "Yeah, uhh, sure. I'll ride the next carriage, don't worry. You have fun up top, kay?"

North Italy, who just happens to have heard of the encounter, immediately volunteers his fratello by raising his hand up. "Ve! My brother is single! He really needs friends but he says he doesn't want any so just ignore him! He can cook really well and he's really a sweetheart when you get to know him, Lovi say hi!"

" _Cazzo madre di Dio_ , Feliciano if you don't shut up I will strangle y—"

"Lovino! Feliciano!" America exclaims later on, glad he at least remembered to use their human names. "Um, conductor guy, I know those two, they can ride with me right?"

The man nods and walks over to the ride barrier they're lined up behind, derailing it while the crowds clear to let them through. A silent Germany follows the Italian brothers and all of a sudden it's this weird country reunion in the most unexpected of places.

"Alfred, ciao!" Italy greets. "You on a solo Disneyland spree?"

America shrugs weakly and replies, "Kind of. Mattie and Gil are on a date, they just went up the last carriage, haha."

"Hah?" The amber-eyed Italian turns to Germany sadly. "Ve, Luddy! You didn't tell me brother Gilbert was here! We could have had a double date and fratello could be with Alfred!"

"I had no idea he was here."

"Excuse me, bastards, I ain't going anywhere with anyone you force me to, damn it. Plus we're kind of holding up the line!" Lovino exclaims exasperatedly. "Are we gonna ride or no?" He took the words out of the quiet conductor's mind and immediately after that, America and Romano are ushered into a free gondola with Germany and Italy waving them goodbye.

"See you in ten minutes!" Veneziano cries, hands very closely drawn to his chest and bawling proudly like one of those proud relatives farewelling their _Just Married_ daughters or nieces or whatever. When Romano glances at America sitting opposite him for a split second, he's wearing a confused expression before shrugging in finality. The two countries don't actually know each other so well, so even with the cyan-painted carriage ascending slowly, there's not much to say.

It's America who breaks the silence, eventually and naturally. "So. Third wheeling as well, huh? How's that going for you?"

"Of all the topics to talk about..." South Italy responds, rolling his eyes. "If you must know, it's fucking awful, okay? _Oh Germany this, oh Germany that_ , they may as well be doing it in the bedroom already with how disgustingly all over Germany Veneziano is," Lovino continues even when America grimaces empathetically. "And not only that! Today, they were actually _sharing_ their garganelli. With THE SAME SPOON! What if that potato bastard has some kind of virus, damn it, I'll kill him if fratellino gets sick! Don't they know proper dining etiquette? For the record, I'm only here so that I could protect Veneziano from those grubby German hands, cazzo!"

"Pretty much like me, actually. Prussia was pulling Mattie to a "Test Your Strength" stall today and he was literally hitting his chests with his fists like a gorilla would when he got jackpot, proclaiming, "WHO IS THE AWESOMEST OF THEM ALL!" to anyone who would pass by. For some reason, Matt thinks it's endearing? Like, okay, I like Gilbert and all but... I kinda don't get it. What's so endearing about that?"

"Brothers. Why the heck do they have to date Germans," says Romano, leaning his head against the gondola glass. There isn't much to view from the ferris wheel itself except for the same rides they've already been in and rooftops of many buildings, mobs of people scattered everywhere like tiny lego figurines. A huge body of water sits beneath them along with several lined up trees, high pitched screams from the intense rollercoasters drowning out the whirring sound of the ride and the happy soundtrack playing through the speakers.

When the conversation dies, Romano actually has to wonder if this is the quietest America has ever been in his entire life. Most of the time, at the meetings the Italian does go to, the superpower is the source of noise and arguments galore. Maybe there's something wrong with Romano, and that's why the blonde's not yapping his mouth off?

"The heck are you so quiet over there?" He mutters. "I know we don't really talk but it's slightly disconcerting, given how loud you usually are. Almost concerns me that you claimed to know me back there, cheh."

America nods at him curtly. "Haha. I was just thinking..."

"You can _think_?"

"Dude, that joke is so dry, I've heard it too many times. Plus we _are_ buddies, aren't we? You and me and Italy—"

"Yeah right... **No one** is friends with Italy Romano, stop lying to yourself. The only thing we have in common is..." He looks out at the window and shakes his head slightly when he witnesses the sun disappearing from the horizon; some romantic scenery this is, "our brothers are both idiots with their German boyfriends. You'd think we'd all be one big family if we started dating, heh, lookie here, _this brother is dating that brother!_ What kind of brother invites their brother to third wheel a date?"

"It's still something we have in common," Alfred argues half-heartedly. "But since we're talking about brothers, I'd say you're lucky you got the nicer German brother. Gilbert's hard to compete with, hyperactive-wise."

Lovino eyes him incredulously, offended that America would even suggest such a thing. "Nice and Germany do not go well together! You've heard Germany shout; you'd know! He was berating Veneziano for wearing a bowtie this morning! Bowties are _in_ fashion!"

"Gilbert wanted to bring beer into Disneyland."

"Germany didn't want to sing _It's A Small World After All_ in Fantasyland! Not that I would have sung it, but it made Feli sad! Do you how heartbreaking it is to have a sad Italy?"

The American nation adds, "You're not a sad Italy now, are you? I'd say that'd be pretty heartbreaking." This of course, prompts Romano to throw the closest thing he could find at America's shoulder, which just happened to be his fist.

"You are not funny."

America grins when he manages to make South Italy crack a smile anyway, hidden behind the hand the latter is using to hide the faint blush from being recognized as a true Italy. "I am _so_ funny! Funnier than Prussia, at least. He always has to add awesome to everything, huh."

"How about we conclude that German boyfriends are forever terrible and leave it at that? All this talk about being third wheels is mentally draining." Romano doesn't know when America had moved to his side of the carriage, their shoulders and legs barely touching. "But Ludwig's lucky to have my brother. The entire world knows Italians are the best lovers to have, and given how happy Feli is with him despite all else, I'd just have to suck it up and keep on third wheeling forever. I'm the eldest, so I can probably teach Germany a few things about how to treat Veneziano... But he's dead if he hurts him once; I swear on my entire mafia."

The waning afternoon makes way for the evening, LED lights illuminating the gondola in pretty turquoise shades. There's a sudden incident with said gondola because it outswings itself and sends the blonde toppling towards Romano's left side. The recovery is even more awkward because Roma glares at his companion for not staying at his own seat, sending America back where he began. The fond and rare moment of a protective and caring Romano is gone.

"It's, uhh," Alfred starts, " _You're..._ well. You're a good brother. I wish I was like that with Prussia. He's a great guy and Mattie seems happy with him as well but... deep down I guess I don't want to give my brother up to just anyone, yeah? The whole tagging along thing was just an excuse to spend more time with Canada, haha. But it's the normal busy life of countries, you know? Just need to get used to it."

Around ten minutes later as the ride duration suggests, they're back on the ground again with their aforementioned siblings and their (questionable) German boyfriends. Italy is the one looking after a slightly dizzy Germany, hugs and back rubs his ultimate weapon. America and Romano catch Prussia mid-kissing Canada and they both turn to each other and grimace, the former making silly gagging noises.

"West, how about all six of us go have dinner together now that we're practically a group? Prussia proposes. "We could eat French, maybe? Do you have any suggestions or shall we just whip out the map and go to a random place?"

"Ya, sure. Anywhere you want to go, Italy?"

"Anywhere's good as long as we're together, ve!"

Romano growls, "We are not going back to that crappy Italian installment, you hear? And no more separating! If I have to be with America alone again, I'm leaving!"

"Hey!" The bespectacled blonde nudges him playfully. "Our ride wasn't bad at all, right? Roma and I are buddies now!"

"Do not call me Roma!"

Canada stifles a laugh at the sight of the two play fighting. "Let's just walk around and see what we can find. It's a good thing we've all found each other then, aye?"

"Yeah!" Italy admits, arm linking around the taller German's.

"Ya."

"Heck yes! Now I can tease West about who's the better boyfriend!"

"Yeah." Romano and America say in unison, secretly glad that they've got someone else to third wheel along side with. So, they may have very little in common, both their brothers are douchebags and their lives as countries can get ridiculously mundane what with having to deal with so much history. But it's the start of a hilarious friendship and overprotective brother situations, one that's been forged no where else, but in the land of dreams and happiness.


	3. Fowl Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Fowl Play
> 
>  
> 
>  **Summary:** It's America and Romano against the park's most notorious guards. For Day 3 prompt: First Date/Kiss. Heads up for smitten, unheroic America, OOC Romano and clumsy fails.

 

* * *

_For your first date, you should take your partner somewhere unique and special,_ they said. _Try to be as creative and unconventional as possible,_ they said. If today isn't going into a list as one ofthe most **peculiar** first dates ever, then America had nothing else to say.

He and Italy Romano have been communicating steadily for some time now, either on Skype or Facebook or insert-social-media-website-slash-application here. Nothing extremely crazy of the sort. He confessed to having feelings for the older Italian nation, said Italian nation just happened to like him back — it was a pretty ordinary get-together. Thing is, with Romano being in Europe and America being, well, in _America_ , they had to settle with interacting long distance until a world meeting comes up or one of them finally has a free schedule. Alas, after a month's worth of paperwork done and dusted, Romano is thankfully flying over to come see him and stay at his home for just over a fortnight.

This also means that America has to get his game on and plan one of, if not the most, superb first date ever for the two of them.

At first, he thought of binging home movies or going to a fancy dinner, but _everyone_ does that. _Too boring._

He then thought of arcades, bowling or ice skating, but Romano was probably not used to those either.

 _Circus?_ Too happy. _Obstacle course racing?_ Too much physical work.

What about swimming? _The beach?_ Beach walking? They could build sandcastles and hunt for crabs. It is on the verge of summer, and Roma could work on the tan he wanted to achieve by the end of the hot season.

When he asked the brunette about it over the phone after agonizingly racking his brain for ideas, Romano responded with going to a picnic. _I'll make the food when the time comes so don't you worry your pretty little head about it, amore. And that's because I don't want you to bring burgers and fries, a'ight? Good. Buona notte, America. Ciao._

_._

_._

_._

Who'd have thought that it wasn't the food they should have worried about, but _rather_ , the park's state of occupancy?

On the day of their first date, give or take a few minutes from midday, the two of them were casually exploring their surroundings hand-in-hand in an attempt to find the perfect spot when the American nation decides that the clearing between the playground and the infamous park lake would have to do. The park pavement is narrow and there are many trees overshadowing the area, something Romano is glad of so he can take a siesta under the shade. They catch sight of a tree with the thickest of trunks and take a break there. America finds himself admiring his good-looking Italian companion while the latter unloads the basket and sets up their picnic blanket, suddenly surprised when the blonde plants a kiss on his cheek.

"I must be the luckiest person in the world to be dating you," the younger says mechanically, still eyeing how Romano is smoothing down the blanket creases with delicate but calloused hands. Malachite eyes narrow at America's apparent smitten state, the owner greatly amused.

"I'm bloody gorgeous and perfect, of course you are," the brunette replies. "Help me out with these containers. I say what you eat and what you don't. I made you Italian garlic bread and prosciutto cups so hands off my antipasto, ya hear?"

"Got it." answers America as he pulls out a whole loaf of white bread from the basket. "Um... what's this for?"

"Ducks."

"Ducks?" The blue-eyed man repeats.

When Romano finishes his preparations, he clasps his hands together, ready to say grace. "I want to feed the ducks so I brought bread."

"Dude, this entire loaf? It's huge! This was like, half the basket!"

The green-eyed nation shrugs, sarcastically responding, "Yes, you have _figured out_ my plans. I only wanted a picnic so I can take over America by building myself a duck army. I care more about feeding them than I do with you..."

"Noooooo!" America yells, subconsciously cursing the lake in his line of sight. "I don't want to lose Romano to a bunch of ducks! I promise! I'll be a good boyfriend, just please don't choose ducks over me..."

South Italy fondly smiles before gently pinching the other's cheek. **Weirdo.** But it's the American's unpredictable quirks that makes him overly endearing. "Come off it, Merica. Like I'd do that." He leans over and makes to kiss his forehead, missing entirely when Alfred squirms and he kisses one of his eyelids instead.

"I like you a lot, 'Mano." mutters the contented younger nation afterwards, happily biting into his foil-wrapped garlic bread.

"And I like you too." Romano says, uncharacteristically grinning for a change.

* * *

America is in touch with his inner child when he effortlessly conquers the playground and occupies one of the swings, pushing himself as high as he can go. Since it's on the verge of a beautiful afternoon, there aren't any children around — only a few joggers and the elderly enjoying themselves on their daily strolls.

"Yahoo! I'm king of the world!"

Their food's been consumed and Romano is standing by after cleaning up, a little too full to take a siesta at the current moment. He tilts his head to one side and simply observes as America attempts to reach for him from the swing with a foot.

"I'm sure you are, _amore._ " The Italian has his whole loaf of bread cradled in one arm and the blonde can only guess what the other man plans to do now.

"Want me to come with you to the lake?"

"Do you want to come?" Romano inquires. "You seem busy with your swinging there," he shoots.

Blushing at the way South Italy is looking at him like he's the only thing that matters, America pushes himself back one last time before impressively jumping off the swing, rolling forwards when he doesn't land steadily. Then he dusts his checkered blue shirt and beams. "Maa, we are on a date after all. Of course I'll come! 'Sides, what am I to do if some duck tries to steal you away from me? I'll be sad!"

Romano extends his free arm for Alfred to take. "We'll be having none of that then. The world will have my head if I ever made their precious superpower sad. You can save me from the ducks."

"Can do! I'm the hero after all!"

The lake's not a far distance away and already there are a variety of birds inhabiting the edge of the large body of water. Sparrows, seagulls (wherever you go, expect these scavengers loitering around), the occasional crows... then there's the territorial black swans and diving ducks casually resting in the middle of the lake. Alfred misjudges his footing when he pulls his boyfriend towards the scene, barely falling over forwards if not for Romano's quick reflexes. Ugh, he hasn't been very heroic at all since Roma came to visit. If anything, it's the other way around and it's so unfair!

Tearing a piece from the huge bread loaf, the Italian turns to the blue-eyed man and raises a brow. He passes him the bread. "You have half, and I have the other? Unless you just want to stand there and watch me, that's fine too."

"I'll h-help!" America chimes, a little too enthusiastically. He accepts the loaf and hands over Romano's share, throwing over his own first piece into the lake as close to the birds as possible. When the flocks gather towards them, that's when Romano starts his feeding. Not one of the bread pieces go for more than three seconds in the water before a swan or a duck gobbles it up, endless squawkings begging for more.

"Merica, do it slowly," suggests the green-eyed Italian when he witnesses the other continuously tearing off bread and chucking them at the sparrows all at once. "Try to hook them in, and that way you'll have more to give them when the flock gathers."

"But it's not fun for the birds!" his boyfriend argues. "If I was a bird and a human gave me little bits and pieces of hamburger every few minutes, I'd attack him!" Up until then their feeding has been tranquil, even arousing the attention of a gaggle of geese somewhere from the other side of the vast park lake. Judging by their adamant crows, they seem excited to receive their own share of the party.

Alert. Attention. TURN AWAY NOW.

Unfortunately the two of them are unaware of how aggressive geese can be, ignoring all else and proceeding with their duck feeding.

When the first goose pecks at the brunette's shoes, America laughs heartily. "Oh wow, this one thinks your shoelace is a worm." He tries to attract its attention if only to KEEP IT FROM STEALING ROMANO, hnn hnn! But Roma's got it all covered because he throws a big piece a bit far to his left and the greedy fowl hunts it down, wings outstretched to protect it from the other ducks. Another goose or two emerges from the water to fight for their own fill.

Sooner or later they both run out of bread. For a few minutes after finishing his own half, America is left to study Lovino's languid movements — the natural swing of his arms as he throws, attention focused solely to the task at hand...

Then there was Romano's occasional head turns, quick blinks and missable smiles. _God, he's beautiful_ , the blonde can't help but think. He really can't believe that the person he'd been pining over for who knows how long is actually standing in front of him, on a _first date_ with him of all things, for goodness sake.

In fact, it is his complete distraction that gets the duo into this whole mess in the first place, because the second he stops thinking about anything else but wanting to walk over give Romano another kiss, America had somehow lost his footing again and ends up bumping into the other, making him drop what's left of his loaf.

"Oi, what's up with you, _caro_? You're not this fumbly with others. Are you okay?"

"Sorry," he apologizes regrettably. Normally Romano would be all up in his face if he was a different person, demanding they make it up to him by bringing him only the best tomatoes. It's a good thing the Italian's taking his failures so patiently today. There's even a hand that brushes his hair back, tucking it behind his ear, and Texas is put back into place with a few adjustments. _Roma smells nice..._

But then he's suddenly ambushed by that first goose from before.

"Honk!" It shrieks at the blonde, neck elongated as far as it can to exercise dominance and pose threat. "Honk! HONK!"

"Oh damn it, they want more bread," Romano mumbles, not even fazed. "We should go, the whole gaggle's going to wage war on us at this rate."

"HONK!" First Goose is now flapping its wings aggressively, advancing at America to peck him where it hurts.

"HONK! HONK! HONK!"

"ROMANOOOO! THE GOOSE IS ATTACKING ME, A-ACK!" Alfred tries to bat it away with a hand. Puhlease, he's won several confrontations with the world's toughest and now Mr I'm-Going-To-Steal-Your-Boyfriend Goose is picking a fight with him? This fowl messed with the wrong country!

But America isn't cruel to animals. Attacking it back would go against his virtues.

By the time the whole gaggle have surfaced from the lake, the southern Italian really thinks they should make like a tree and leave. Reaching for one of America's free hands, he sprints away from the area like he's done so many times before when fleeing and only stops to consider picking up their picnic basket where they left it.

But oh.

**_Oh no._ **

Running away means issuing a challenge to these evil spawns of Bird Satan. Second Goose gives chase and the entire clan follows, pecking at the air around them. The blue-eyed American is panicking. He finds a twig and a rock on the ground, quickly swipes it up and throws it who knows where, hoping it would distract them somehow. It fails.

**"HONK!"**

"R-Roma, shit, we're going to d-die!"

"Just keep running, bastard!" Romano tells him, dropping the basket in his haste and instinctively dragging the both of them up the playground's enclosed kiddie slide. Not the best of places to hide in, but beggars can't be choosers. First Goose caterwauls one last time — its battlecry, perhaps? — before said fowl and Second Goose stop at the end of the blue slide. Upon having won their epic encounter, the geese make their way back to the lake.

 _Oh god,_ if Mattie and the world could see America now, all huddled up with Italy Romano in a kid's slide because he couldn't fight back against a measly goose, they'd never let him live it down. England would write a book about it and publish it for all to read, and France would be screaming, _"pitoyable"_ in his face for years and years. Embarrassing!

But hey, if anything, this win belongs to Alfred because he still has Lovino with him. No demon goose is going to ruin their budding relationship, hah! That's right! Fly back to where you come from and never return! LOSERS!

" _Are they gone?_ 'Mano, do you think they're gone?"

"I'm not the one closest to the exit, Merica. I wouldn't know."

"Oh right, I should leave." The younger nation extends his legs out and slides down from his position, warily conducting reconnaisance before he deems their surroundings safe enough for his boyfriend to exit the slide. Great, his once meticulously-styled hair and dirt-free checkered t-shirt is all dishevelled now. He doesn't get what's so funny about their situation when Romano eventually emerges from the slide bursts into laughter at the pout he's wearing.

"O-Oh man, that was g-great. I s-should get out m-more often, hah!"

America questions, "You're not mad that we practically got attacked by geese on our first date?"

Sensing his discomfort, the Italian rolls his eyes and whaps him lightly on the arm. "Don't classify me with stuffy old douchebags like England. I can have fun too." At this, he scans the area for the basket he'd dropped and beckons the former to follow him out. Yay! Victory kiss from Roma after braving out a terrible first date situation! America is already thinking of what to do for their second date while he and the Italian still have time together, mentally ruling out any more locations with men-hunting devilish geese.

"Hey Romano, you want to go bowling next time?" He asks out loud, drawing the other's warm palm to his lips and nuzzling it affectionately.

"Why not?" is the answer he gets. "And don't worry about what happened today, si? Your goose phobia is safe with me."

He's not sure if that's supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing, but America isn’t going to take his chances. "Wouldn't dream of it, love."


	4. Sure, Blame It On The Signal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Sure, Blame It On The Signal
> 
> **Summary:** In which texting is super unreliable, tears are shed and Arthur unleashes his wrath on an unsuspecting Lovino. For Day 4 prompt: Misunderstandings. Heads up for more vulgarity, sad Alfred and pissed off Arthur.

 

"I'm leaving you, I found someone else," is not a great morning text to wake up to from your boyfriend of two years. Even more so if said boyfriend is currently overseas for a business trip and you're waiting for him patiently back home, expecting him to keep in touch with you every now and then when he has the time.

Alfred's initial reaction to the text is a bit delayed in his sleep-addled mind. It actually makes him laugh because he misreads the "leaving" part for "loaving"; yeah, like Lovino would ever use cheesy words like, "I _loave_ you, I _miss_ you" over text. When he puts on his glasses and rubs his eyes some, ready to send a reply, his heart drops a little when he rereads the words on the screen. Leaving? As in, _leaving_ , leaving? Lovino can't be serious, right? The Italian is totally joshing him, man. He's just woken up.

What time is it in Australia now, 8, 9:30pm probably? Lovi would be getting ready for bed.

Two or three confused question marks followed by a straight-faced emoji and no answer back later, the panic settles in and Alfred jumps out of bed, freaking out. Heck, what if Lovi **was** serious? He could have met some new pretty coworker today, and instead of getting ready for bed, the Italian is getting ready to PARTY. OH GOD, is this really happening? Why isn't Lovi answering him back?!

Australia... Australia...

He doesn't know anyone from Australia personally who could help him out, since calling Lovino for answers is already a futile option. Maybe his boss and most trusted big brother/friend Arthur does though, like that Jett Kirkland dude cousin person or whomever. His boyfriend isn't responding, damn it! This is so uncalled for! Over text, _during a trip_ , when Lovi knew he'd be waiting for him at home and he _knows_ he hadn't even done anything wrong?! Is this really the climax of their two year relationship?

It was staring at Lovino's empty side of the bed, all smoothened out with his extra pillows stacked up together by the headrest that does it for him and Alfred _falls to his knees_ , ready to start sobbing.

**Why?**

Damn it why, it's not fair, this is a nightmare and he just has to physically throw himself at something to wake up from it.

.

.

.

_Leaving... Leaving you... Leaving you, found someone else..._

...Oh lord, Alfred needs time.

Time to think things through. Time to let reality sink in, time to prepare for the worst because he isn't sure he'll be able to handle anything else at the moment.

It is to this same apathetic disposition that Arthur answers the phone to minutes later, chills running down his spine when the normally cheerful Alfred tells him he's not coming in to work in the coldest and most detached tone he's ever heard.

_"Alfred?"_ The Brit says fondly, unaware he's treading into deep waters.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm not feeling well." And wasn't that the understatement of the year! Even when the American felt sick, he still manages to add in a few, "the hero can get better in a pinch!" comments here and there. There's a rustling sound from the other side of the line followed by the jingling of keys that prompts the blue-eyed man to quietly ask, "What are you doing, Arthur?"

_"You idiot, I'm coming over. There will be none of your useless protesting, thank you very much, this isn't like you and I'm worried!"_ There's the revving up of a car now. _"Sit still and don't do anything, you git! I'll be there soon!"_

"I don't need you to c—" is Alfred's reply but the line goes dead.

.

.

.

Well, fuck.

Now what? Cry into a slice of pizza? Binge on cookies and cream ice cream? His legs are beginning to hurt in his not-so-comfortable squat and he stands, only to flop back down on the floor a second later when he trips over the edge of his pyjamas. Wow, this is pathetic. Alfred is lazily lying on the carpeted floor in the same room he and Lovino shared.

_This_ , is the gray-coloured carpet Lovino specifically picked for their cozy two-storey house in Washington, his beloved hometown.

_Those,_ are Lovino's socks he sees under the bed, all scrunched up and mindlessly disposed of, not having seen the light of day for God knows how long. Lovi always did leave his socks around almost everywhere, be it between the couch gaps, on the dining table or even in the freezer, for heaven's sake. And he called Alfred messy...

Man, this entire room smells like Lovi...

The blonde is crying pathetically again when a loud door slam resounds from downstairs — wow, Arthur's here — and just the sight of another person in the same house that HE AND LOVI OWNED drains what's left of his will to do anything productive today.

"Christ," Arthur mutters under his breath, getting to his knees to help his protégé up. "What's happened to you, dear? You look unsightly, your face is all blotched up! Have you been crying?"

_No shit._

"Lovi... he... he..." What the heck happened to his Thursday? The American had plans to upgrade the backyard garden fence if only so Lovi would be impressed with him when he returned from Australia. Oh man, Lovi was planning to plant _forget-me-nots..._ Haha... Hahaha...

"Lovino?" Arthur copies, concerned. "What happened? He's not unwell, is he? Have you tried contacting him?" Of course Alfred tried contacting the Italian, was the green-eyed man daft?

Crawling over to the unmade bed where the American knew he'd left his phone, he flashes his companion the very same text that's got him so down in the dumps. "He... he said he's LEAVING me! I d-didn't know w-what I d-did, w-woke up to this, prob'ly gunna party with some pretty girl, I've tried to be so good, not g-good enough, fufu..."

Arthur snatches the phone, thick brows furrowing as he reads off of it and he snarls, one corner of his mouth twitching. Then the man goes back to supporting Alfred onto the bed. "I knew that arsehole was a good for nothing, two-timing bastard! DAMN IT! Always popular with the ladies, I had my suspicions about him for ages," he grinds his teeth irritatedly.

Through hooded eyes and blurry spectacles, Alfred could see his big brother/friend clenching his fists and craning his neck, ready to take out a man. Arthur may have been small in stature, but he wasn't a CEO of a company for nothing. The green-eyed Brit glances at Alfred and almost immediately, that deadly temperament of his dies, replaced with concern. "Alright then love, you sit there and I'll make you breakfast, yes? Then we'll do something about killing your boyfriend."

"NO!" Alfred shouts. "No... no breakfast and... no killing either." He sighs, a hand running through unruly golden locks. "I'm... fine. I just need to sleep, maybe."

"Are you sure you don't want to eat?"

The blue-eyed man may be sad about the ordeal, but he wasn't ready to _die_ yet, thanks very much. He shakes his head and shows his thanks by giving Arthur a thumbs up, glad to have company with him on this bitch as doomsday.

Leaving the bespectacled blonde to himself, Arthur makes himself at home by looking around for things that may belong to Lovino, already brainstorming what kind of spells he could recreate to summon the devil on that blasted Italian. Alfred may have disclosed murder but a haunting is not a prohibited option. Who does that coward Italian think he is, hooking up with his baby brother and breaking his heart in one of the worst ways possible two years later? 'Tis a wanker, is who. This betrayal will bite that prat in the arse, damn it. Arthur will make sure of it.

* * *

Ten hours later, local Canberra time, Lovino wakes up to a dozen or so missed calls, thirty-something voicemail messages and seventy-fucking-five texts, all from the same number.

_What in the world?_

Oh hang on, not from the same number. There's Francis and Gilbert's caller IDs, idiots they are; probably thought it was funny to spam him while taking turns trying to reach him or whatever. Quite a lot of texts from Kiku and some random number — _"FUCKING IDIOT GIT WANKER PRAT LIGGER ARSEHOLE TRAITOROUS SON OF A BITCH ASS COWARD CUNT FACE, I swear when you return to America I will castrate you and feed your remains to the wolves!"_

Umm? Erhem, this is _illegal._ How dare this stranger harrass him with such language! Scrolling down some more, he recognizes Matthew's number and reads pretty much the same kind of ranting (Lovino thinks it's ranting? It's written in Quebec French so he doesn't understand anything but the words _m_ _ange de la marde_ severely stand out. _Eat shit?_ What? What did he do? Why was Matthew mad?) like the previous anonymous texts.

Then there was Alfred's several miss calls and messages. The last thing he reads is, _"I still don't understand, but whatever your reasons are, I'll respect them because it's you. I love you, Lovino. And I'm so sorry."_ before they stop altogether. Last sent on 3:55am. Um? Okay, this entire situation is beginning to make him nervous.

Lovino knows he wasn't drunk last night, although he could admit to having just left a dinner party with his company's Australian share partners. Then he went to sleep because he was so damn tired and mentally drained. Did he say something to Alfred that he somehow can't remember?

The brown-haired man revisits the aforementioned conversation and almost stops breathing when he sees exactly what he'd sent. **Oh god.** Oh god, oh god, oh god Angel Gabriel, this isn't what he'd intended to send. Lovino had a picture attached to that text — at least, there was supposed to be a picture but all he sees is the GODDAMNED TEXT. He checks his Photo Library. There he is, arm in arm with Cate Blanchett, one of Alfred's favourite actresses. She just happened to be vacationing at the same hotel

their meeting was held at and upon seeing and recognizing her (Al cannot say he doesn't pay attention to his interests NOW), Lovino made damn sure he sucked up his dislike for random conversations so he could get an autograph for his beloved.

But now he won't _have_ a beloved if he doesn't get things under control.

_Vaffanculo,_ he meant the text jokingly! Oh fucking shit, he's in so much trouble. This just explains the texts and voicemails, holy hell, Alfred's protective family is lashing out at him, shit!

Calling isn't going to make the cut, even though for some good reason, Alfred hasn't blocked his number yet. Lovino needs to return to America. NOW. He hastily packs up everything he owns into his suitcase, dials his brother Feliciano to fill in in his absence then all but yells into his phone when his boss Antonio picks up. "Bastard boss, please please please I need your help. There's an emergency with Alfred and I need to go home. TODAY."

_"Today? But the meeting doesn't end till Su—"_

"I KNOW! BUT I NEED. TO. GO. HOME. DELAY ME MY PAYCHECK OR MAKE ME DO OVERTIME WITHOUT PAY IN THE NEAR FUTURE, I NEED YOU TO DO THIS ONE THING FOR ME, DAMN IT!"

Antonio only answers when Lovino is done bursting out of his room and thundering down the hotel stairs. _"Fine, I get it. Meet me in reception, I'll hand over your early return ticket."_

"Fucking thank you, I owe you Antonio, oh my god I think I'm going to be _sick—_ "

* * *

The flight back to America is only the beginning of Lovino's soon-to-be hellish weekend. Curse the USA for being twenty-three hours away from Australia, damn it; one who is in a hurry can only do so much on a plane. He's attempted calling before takeoff, really he has, but everytime the Italian dials his boyfriend's number to give him a head's up, the guilt eats away at him and he wants more than nothing but to smash his head against the nearest wall.

This is agony.

The green-eyed brunette all but rushes through Immigration that Saturday afternoon, shooting the officers who judged him for his fumblings a critical look of his own. He kids you not; the minute he arrives back at his shared home, he's surprised by the suspicious metal pole barricades positioned around the area, thorned rose vines curled along their ends. And if that isn't warning enough, then the creepy fabric sign hanging from his and Alfred's room window reading, "BEWARE OF CHEATING BASTARDS!" (written in questionable red ink) is enough to faze the flustered Italian. That's not something his kind-hearted lover does and would have done no matter the circumstances, which could only mean...

"Alfred!" He calls warily. "Alfred, I'm home, holy fucking shit, I'm sorry, I would _never_ leave you, this is all a misunderstanding!"

After much waiting for a response, the front door swings open violently and out comes up a... dear heavens, it's a _monster_! Lovino freezes in his spot, suitcase abandoned and he whimpers (IT WAS A MANLY WHIMPER people, oh my god, he's in actual **hell** and it's all his fault!)

"YEAH, YOU BETTER BE TERRIFIED OF ME, YOU WANKER, you've got the gall to show your face in here? After what you did?"

Finding his own voice after steeling himself, the younger counters, "In my d-defense, this is m-my h-house! Who a-a-are you? I s-should be asking you w-why you're here, you m-monster! What have y-you done to my front lawn!"

The addressed monster de-robes himself, revealing a very pissed off blonde about Lovino's height and possessing the bushiest eyebrows the Italian has ever seen. Bushy Brows... this is the Bushy Brow boss whom Alfred always talked dearly to him about? WHAT WAS HE DOING HERE?

Bushy Brow Arthur circles the object of his detestation like prey, ready to attack at any time. "If I were you, Lovino Vargas, I'd leave this complex immediately. Alfred doesn't want to see you, you two-timing dipshit."

"I am not _two-timing!_ And he can tell that to me straight to my face, I don't want to hear it from some creep who I don't even know! Move it, prick."

" **No.** " The Brit makes his point very clearly, barricading the path to the door. "Do you own the lease to this house? I'm pretty sure it's under Alfred's name, and Alfred is paying for it with _his_ money, money that _he_ earns to sustain you, and this is _how_ you treat him back?"

"Who the heck is sustaining who, _carogna?_ This house is just as mine as it is Alfred's and I do half as much work to help him out, damn it! M-M-Move it and stop w-wasting my time!"

_"Lovino?"_

The barely audible wheeze from behind the two arguing men catches their attention. Alfred's still in his clothes from two days ago, blonde hair heavily unkempt and glasses barely on his face. There are pillow marks on the guy's left cheek which Lovino only notices close up when he forcibly pushes Arthur aside and runs up to the American, terribly remorseful.

The blue-eyed man questions, "Lovi, w-why are you here? Aren't you s'pposed to be in Australia?" The latter ignores all that and jump hugs him, desperate hands running through Alfred's hair and head nuzzling at his lover's neck. _Oh no, his Al's been crying because of him..._

" _Amore,_ I'm so sorry; sweetheart, I would never leave you! I know I'm difficult and I'm not affectionate most of the time but I fucking love you, damn it!" He breathes. "It was a mistake, I shouldn't have joked around like that. Please forgive me..."

Arthur is just standing there, witnessing all of this unfold in front of him and he gags in his apparent displeasure. He's known Alfred for years, there was no way his protégé would take all these lies face-value and _—_

"You flew all the way from Australia and ditched your meeting just to say apologize to me face-to-face?" The man in question whispers. "You know you could have called, or texted even? I wouldn't have cut ties with you."

"I know." answers the Italian. "But I didn't want to risk any chances of you not picking up. I wouldn't risk any chance of losing you; you're the most important thing in my life." At this, Lovino pulls away from his boyfriend's embrace and tries to find that envelope he made sure was easily accessible in his suitcase. Then he returns to Alfred's side, git Arthur fuming at the sidelines.

"I know how much you love your Hollywood movies and I happened to meet one of your favourite actresses in Canberra. So I got you an autograph. And a picture with her and myself. I was supposed to attach that picture when I sent my text to you but I forgot and I fell asleep unawares." the brunette explains regrettably. "I'm never going to caption shit like that again."

"Lovi..."

The thing Alfred was staring at may have been a brochure for the hotel his boyfriend stayed at, but the elegant scribble written at the front addressed to him personally is one of the sweetest things he's ever received. Lovino knows all is forgiven when the taller scoops him up and takes him back inside. "I love you babe, let's have makeup sex right now."

Hah! There is no way Lovino would have argued with that.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, a distressed Arthur remains in his stance, jade eyes burning through the door that's just been slammed close without any acknowledgement of his presence. The front lawn retains its creepy fairytale evil lair state but it's been ignored, just like that. ALL HIS HARDWORK! "Are you fucking kidding me? You ask for help and this is what I get! I demand a refund of my time!"

Sadly enough for the British man, no one asked him to do anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow did I ask for a rollercoaster plot what have you done brain and hands XD For those who are wondering whatever happened to Al's protective family: news travels fast and it was alll just a misunderstaaanding...
> 
> Damn, this prompt man.


	5. Snapchat Me Again, I'll Snap Your Neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Snapchat Me Again, I'll Snap Your Neck
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  **Summary:** #alfredisaddictedtosnapchat #andlovinoabsolutelyhatesit #prayforalfred2k16 #seriouslysendhelpplease #stopthesehashtags #HOLYMACKERELSHELP. For Day 5 prompt: Memes. Warning for crack, lame script writing, annoying, nonsensical dialogue and basically everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a confession. I CANNOT MEME. It's 2016 and I am seriously missing out.
> 
> *cue in DAAAAAAMN soundtrack here*
> 
> Or maybe I just did? (Why the eff you lyingggg, mmmm oh my goood, stop eff-ing lying)
> 
> Okay seriously, I can't. Those ^ are just old. Edgy and dark and dank memes are not my forte, so this entire meme piece is trashy like the rest of me (￣Д￣)ﾉ
> 
> But I tackled said Day 5 prompt anyway! Here's to hoping it makes the cut; credits to Smosh and Youtube crack vids for the idea. WHOOP

****FELICIANO AND LOVINO'S SHARED HOUSE, FIRST FLOOR, LIVING ROOM****

_An average video camera sits on top of a tripod, the focus on a plain white wall and an empty chair._

_Enter LOVINO VARGAS, who turns said VIDEO CAMERA on and sits on the chair, beginning his vlog. Here, a powerful and climactic soundtrack is playing diagetically._

**LOVINO:** Ciao, my name is Lovino Vargas. I'm here... to talk about my boyfriend Alfred F Jones and his godawful... _(dramatic pause)_ ...Snapchat addiction.

_FELICIANO VARGAS enters the scene, curiously peeking from the corridor wall._

**FELICIANO:** Oh, fratello, are you vlogg—

 **LOVINO:** Stai zitto, get out, BASTARD! What does it look like I'm doing, idiot Feliciano! Don't ruin my shot! I'm gonna have to retake it again and it's all your fau—

 **FELICIANO:** Ve, you can just edit it out later.

 **LOVINO:** _(facepalming)_ What part of "shut up" don't you understand? You're not in this script, get out!

 **FELICIANO:** Actually, I am?

 **LOVINO:** No you are _not_.

 **FELICIANO:** No really, check the script!

_LOVINO checks the script._

**LOVINO:**

**FELICIANO:**

**LOVINO:** _(yelling)_ Don't break the fourth wall, idiot! Leave!

_FELICIANO exits frantically, ve'ing woeful apologies and LOVINO takes a deep breath._

**LOVINO:** Take two.

 _(Practices depressing pout away from the camera and repeats his first line towards the camera)_ Ciao, my name is Lovino Vargas. I'm here to talk about my boyfriend Alfred F Jones and his godawful Snapchat addiction. Ever since that French bastard Francis recommended the app to him, Alfred's been doing nothing else but taking selfies and sending unsuspecting people ridiculous snippets of his everyday life through _(he says this with disgust)_ "stories".

****CUTSCENE FLASHBACK: RANDOM DINER****

_The middle of the day, gentle music playing. ALFRED F JONES is seated at the corner diner table by the window, busy on his phone. LOVINO VARGAS is across from him, studying the man very disappointedly. The waitress finally brings ALFRED his sausage and egg breakfast and LOVINO his pancakes and maple syrup._

**ALFRED:** _(whipping out phone)_ Well alright! Breakfast is here! #deliciousfoodisdelicious! #Breakfastdatewithboyfriend, #herobreakfast!

 _(iPhone camera sound effect playing as he takes a picture)_ PERFECTION! Now let me just doodle a little star-spangled banner—

 **LOVINO:** _(sighing)_ Al, put the phone down and eat.

 **ALFRED:** Hang on, babe, I'm on Snapchat— Oh yeah, that's some good stuff. Ten seconds, baby! Now to send this to Roderich, and to Katyusha and Toris and Feliks...

 **LOVINO:** Alfred, your food is going to cool, put the phone down please.

 **ALFRED:** Babe, wait a second, yeah? Oh damn, I look good in this lighting! And 3, 2, 1! _Wassup dudes, Alfred here! So I'm currently on a date with my boyfriend and the food, man! Blahblah~_

_LOVINO shakes his head and the scene fades out._

_._

_._

**NARRATOR:** Alfred uses Snapchat 7 hours everyday.

That's equivalent to a whole school day.

A whole school day on one useless application.

Alfred hated high school and that's probably why he is using his time so foolishly.

_._

_._

****BACK AT FELICIANO AND LOVINO'S SHARED HOUSE, FIRST FLOOR, LIVING ROOM****

_LOVINO is making out with a tomato. Upon being caught by the camera, he hides the tomato behind his back and glares._

**LOVINO:** _(flustered)_ Cheh, next time, tell me when the scene's starting, _cazzo!_...Who am I talking to? This is my own video, damn it! Anyway...

As you may have seen from my horrible flashback, Alfred, poor soul he is, can't even eat meals normally anymore without using Snapchat. And he needs **food** to live! I've seen him wake up and immediately feel around the bed for his phone just to access the application and check if there are new filters. With his favourite filter being the rainbow puke filter, he's even classically conditioned himself by opening his mouth everytime he sees a camera!

****CUTSCENE FLASHBACK: ALFRED'S WORKPLACE, OUTSIDE****

_ALFRED works at a childcare centre. There are cameras surrounding the complex for security purposes. ALFRED arrives at work and exits the driver's seat of his car, suddenly surprised when he sees a surveillance camera atop a nearby streetlight._

_A small kid walks up to ALFRED, confused._

**KID:** Mr Alfred, are you okay?

 **ALFRED:** _(face to the camera)_ MAKE THE RAINBOWS FILL THE EARTH IN LIQUID FORM!

_._

_._

**NARRATOR:** Alfred even uses Snapchat during working hours.

He Snaps his time with the kids and thinks it's funny to faceswap them with random dolls' faces or objects.

Alfred's face does not suit children's bodies, especially Peter Kirkland's.

The kids DO NOT support their caretaker's antics, even though it's kind of nice to be in selfies with the cheerful blonde wearing flower crowns or excessive makeup filters.

_._

_._

****SCENE CHANGE: ALFRED'S WORKPLACE, CARETAKER'S DESK****

**ALFRED:** _(sipping coffee)_ Lovi thinks I'm addicted to Snapchat, but I really don't get what the big deal about it is. #Alfredisdivingintoseriousmode! Hell yeah! _(—to off-screen child, shouting)_ No Mathias Jr, sand is not edible! Put it away! Yes, you can still play in the sandbox!

 _(back to camera, mouth opening wide and staring at it like a mirror, or rather, pretending to use a filter)_ Everyone else nowadays is addicted to their own things. Heck, in this generation, there's bound to be one person who is on their phone all the time! Like, sometimes when I travel via public transport, I'd count how many people on the train are on their devices! What's wrong with having an interest or obsession? I don't think it's right to police other people for it, you get me? Lovino should accept me for who I am. Woah, #Alfredjustsaidsomethinginspiring2k16 #sorecordingthisandputtingitinmystory! You don't mind me Snapping our time together right?

But seriously, who am I even talking to?

.

.

 **NARRATOR:** Alfred has had to purchase three iPhones just to have three Snapchat accounts — AlfAlfAlf for his personal selfies and friends stories, DaJonester for work and food stories and AlfieLovi69 for his boyfriend stories and _so much more._

Sometimes he sends himself Snaps and chat logs through these accounts and replies back with the other account _just because._

He also has crapload of iCloud storage because every single one of his stories goes to the Camera Roll. Begone, iCloud Storage Almost Full notification!

Alfred has a filing system of his stories from Snapchat in his laptop dating two months prior to his _addic_ — erhem, pardonne moi, completely-acceptable- _interest_ -like-honestly-don't-call-it-an-addiction-that's-offensive.

.

.

****STILL AT ALFRED'S WORKPLACE, CARETAKER'S DESK****

_Here we have living proof and actual live footage to show the audience how badly Snapchat is affecting Alfred's life. Play depressing music, please. You know, like, the violin solo by Mr Krabs with one claw in Spongebob Squarepants? Yeah, that one. Edit it out or something to avoid it being copyrighted and add credit_ ™. _Thank you._

 **ALFRED:** _(to the camera)_ Oh em gee, so Mattie totally just Snapped me saying hi. You know how cool that is? Mattie said hi! SNAPPED ME A HI! I'm going to reply back.

 _(reading as he types)_ Hi, Matt! How... is... Canada... question mark? Glad... you... have... Snapchat... full stop! How... many... points... do you... have now? I... have... 751! YEAH! Almost to 800, wooo!

I'm gonna make him my best friend for sure, man. All we have is the baby face emoji for now...

****SCENE CHANGE: FRANCIS BONNEFOY'S HOUSE, DINING ROOM****

**FRANCIS:** Who am I? Why, I'm none other than the man responsible for _mon petit chaton_ Alfred's Snapchat initiation, _cheri_! Welcome to the club, Alfred! Although I must say a score of 751 is not flattering at all! MON DIEU, we need more, more! Show to the world your _desirable assets,_ we want to see them all! MMMMMM, YESSSS, YESSSSSSSS!

_ARTHUR KIRKLAND, FRANCIS' not-partner, unwelcomingly joins the scene._

**ARTHUR:** For shame, Francis, have you any idea how embarrassing that was? We will have none of that nonsense, thank you very much!

 _(to the camera)_ Please be so kind as to cut out that out, I wouldn't want to get this video-vlog-whatever thing flagged. But you're absolutely wrong, Francis. Alfred's Snapchatting has got to stop. Can you believe he tried installing the application on my phone so that _I could talk to him?_ Who would want to talk to that prat? Through vain selfies, nonetheless?

 **FRANCIS:** He actually successfully did it? Wow, I've been trying to do that with you for ages! But _non_ , let the boy be. Although it'd make me happy if he replied to my Stories too instead of just viewing them, how could he ignore the talented and beautiful _moi?_ I know he's online and those "Seen" messages just, really... get to my feelings, you know?

 **ARTHUR:** He's doing the right thing, ignoring you. I don't want to know what kind of antics you get up to online; I might have to go to church every Sunday to get rid of the thoughts.

 **FRANCIS:** _Mon cher_ —

 **ARTHUR:** DO NOT "LOVE" ME, YOU CHEESE-EATING SURRENDER MONKEY!

_The anonymous CAMERAMAN flees the scene because the fight was getting too serious._

****SCENE CHANGE: FELICIANO AND LOVINO'S SHARED HOUSE, FIRST FLOOR, LIVING ROOM****

_LOVINO is dabbing his eyes free of (fake) tears. This video is coming to its climax as epic music is playing in the background to capture the desolate mood LOVINO is in. Yes, this script includes metaphors and language techniques._

**LOVINO:** It's... not fair. I _just..._ I just want a normal date and a normal boyfriend, damn it! Not a boyfriend who feels the need to document every single thing he and I do via a stupid app for the world to see! Sometimes he doesn't even talk to me anymore! He just... he just... Snaps me! He even cosplayed as the Snapchat application ghost for last month's Halloween party! Kiku, the party host, specifically said the theme was _games!_ I dressed as Mario and Alfred was supposed to be Luigi! HE BETRAYED ME!

.

.

 **NARRATOR:** In Alfred's defense, he wanted to be Mario because Mario is red and he likes red and Lovino likes green.

Lovino is still salty.

Salty like the Dead Sea.

Did you know the Dead Sea isn't actually _dead_ but due to its high salinity levels, wildlife and plants cannot physically sustain life there? Now you can't say you don't learn anything from these videos, kids. Tell your parents that videos can be educational, yes?

Although if you are a kid, you shouldn't be watching this.

Remind the creator to add PG warnings and the Educational tag.

For heaven's sake I'm running out of things to say they pay me a dollar for every word, alright, help a guy out here.

.

.

****SCENE CHANGE: ALFRED'S APARTMENT, CORRIDOR TO THE BATHROOM****

_More climactic music, really? Did the creator study media at all or is this just a sob story? Where is the balance? 7.8/10 IGN reviews too much sad, yes?_

_Correction and SPOILER ALERT: This is a very serious story and it will be featured under the Trending tab in Youtube. But back to the scenes — LOVINO knocks repeatedly on the bathroom door. ALFRED is inside the bathroom as the warm lighting is perfect for selfies. And he's also kind of just finished peeing._

**LOVINO:** _(sniffling)_ Enough, Alfred, I'm done! **Done** with everything, damn it! If you don't come out of there right now, you'll never see me again! You think our relationship is worth less than your obsession to this godforsaken application? You have to choose, Snapchat or me! I can't date someone who hashtags his dialogue in real life and imagines himself using filters in front of cameras! I'm sorry, but I'm just not that type of person! I can't accept you for who you are!

_A loud gasp echoes around the corridor._

**ALFRED:** _(from the other side of the bathroom)_ #LovinoandIarefighting #Idon'tknowifI'mgoingtowin #RIPme...

 **LOVINO:** Are you for real? And I thought giving you a chance to make it up to me would be worth it. I'm... _I'm leaving!_ You can't stop me!

_ALFRED opens the bathroom door and catches LOVINO's arm before he can make it out the corridor._

**ALFRED:** Okay, okay, I get it now. My interests are affecting our relationship. And I... I can't have it both ways, can I?

 _(ALFRED looking forlornly, both hands grasping LOVINO's delicately)_ But see, what am I going to do without Snapchat? Life is too short to enjoy on its own, I need to have my stories, sweetheart. So when I'm old, I can look back at my time with you, and my time with my friends and all my moments... Don't you _understand?_

 **LOVINO:** _(gazing into Alfred's glossy blue eyes)_ Al, we have _normal_ videos for that. Snaps only last ten, fifteen seconds...? And when you chat with others, your log disappears when you exit the thread unless you save it... how can you possibly rely on it to document your **story**?

 **ALFRED:** The entire thing is a metaphorical paradox in itself. I say life is too short, so I want to document it with the best of my abilities. Yet Snapchat is shorter than a video, or a Kik message, so, like you say, how can it possibly record our moments accurately? But that's just the thing! Life _is_ too short, and that's why Snapchat is so limited. To show users that they should be using their time wisely instead of browsing for filters and taking a thousand selfies with the right lighting. It's the memories we make in life that matters right? So we should enjoy them... especially with the people we love...

_ALFRED drops LOVINO's hands and leans closer to caress his face._

**ALFRED:** _(stuttering)_ I, um... I made you something on Snapchat... It's in my story and I just finished it during my bathroom break... and well, while taking a few selfies... No nudes, I swear! I swear!

_LOVINO is suspicious but he doesn't question it further; he only checks his phone for the aforementioned Snap._

**LOVINO:** Which account?

 **ALFRED:** AlfieLovi69, the boyfriend account.

_LOVINO nods comprehensively and taps on AlfieLovi69's story. There's an introductory video that showcases what the rest of the story is going to be about._

_._

_._

**ALFIELOVI69:** _(just woke up, still in bed)_ H-H-Hey guys, Alfred here! Well, umm, hey Lovino! Hi to you too! Sooooooo... I know I've been thinking about this for a while and I finally had the courage to do it today. So, uhh, here goes! I hope you love me for this! #PrayforAlfred2k16!

.

.

 **ALFIELOVI69:** GOING TO THE JEWELLERY STORE AAAAAH! I'M SO NERVOUS! I'VE GOT MY BUDDY KIKU HERE, KIKU SAY HI!

 **KIKU** : Hi.

 **ALFIELOVI69:** So yeash, that's Kiku! I'm picking out my aquamarine ring preorder. That's Lovi's birthstone by the way, all you March babies are so lucky! GAAAAH! I'm freaking out, I've had it on hold for ages and the pickup's so overdue but I'm doing it!

 **KIKU:** Calm down, Alfred. The staff member Elizaveta is my friend, she'll walk you through it. She's had several hyperventilating, about-to-propose clients before.

.

.

_LOVINO uses a free hand to cover his mouth, utterly shocked._

**LOVINO:** No, you aren't, this isn't—

 **ALFRED:** Keep watching, it's not done.

.

.

 **ALFIELOVI69:** I GOT THE RING! AAAAAAAHHH! It's so beautiful! Kiku, help me, I wanna show the camera. You think maybe it'll be better on the sepia filter? I wonder...

_A simple aquamarine gem surrounded by smaller diamonds sits atop an intricate gold band._

**ALFIELOVI69:** I know it's kind of weird for an engagement ring, especially for a guy, but Lovi loves pretty things! He's the most fashionable person I know, haha!

.

.

 **ALFIELOVI69:** BACK AGAIN, LOSERS! #Alfred'sgonnasingasongandplayguitar #Ilearntthisovernightforgivemyfail! And now I'm going to be singing Bruno Mars' _Marry Me_ on acoustic! Beware story stalkers, I'll be doing it in sections! This is for you, Lovino! I LOVE YOU!

.

.

 **ALFIELOVI69:** _(singing while playing guitar)_ It's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do... hey baby, I think I wanna marry you...

.

.

 **ALFIELOVI69:** Is it the look in your eyes? Or is it this dancing juice? Who cares baby! I think I wanna marry you...

.

.

 **ALFIELOVI69:** Don't say no, no, no, no-no, just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah, and we'll go, go, go, go-go, if you're ready, like I'm ready!

.

.

 **ALFIELOVI69:** Cause it's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you! _(finishes song and laughs)_

.

.

 **ALFIELOVI69:** _(this time, in the bathroom)_ OH MY GOD I'M STILL FREAKING OUT AHAHAHA, #howwillLovireact #HELP. And no Francis, I am not going to imagine him naked to get rid of these butterflies, I've already seen him naked! One last bathroom selfie and I'll tell him about this story since he still hasn't checked it, haha. Alfred, over and out!

.

.

_LOVINO pockets his phone once more and actually goes to wipe his eyes from tears of happiness instead of distress like earlier. Is he really crying? Wow, that's some superb acting. Told you it was a serious story._

**LOVINO:** (grinning widely) You arse. How could you propose in the cheesiest way possible?

 **ALFRED:** _(lifting LOVINO's chin up to look him straight in the eyes)_ It's not a story without your yes. You can't spell Lovi with the L-O-V from LOVE right? All you need is I...

 **LOVINO:** _(cringing so hard because that was just terrible. Heck, even the script writer is cringing. Poor script writer.)_ Dork. #Yes.

ALFRED: I'm sorry, did you just?

 **LOVINO:** YES, I say yes, damn it! Continue to make more content like that, then fine... I guess you can have both Snapchat and me... You, um... you have that story saved? I wanna watch it even after the 24 hour mark ends.

 **ALFRED:** You know it, babe.

_LOVINO stands on his tippy topes as ALFRED leans in to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek. Yay, all is happy._

****SCENE CHANGE: RANDOM PARK BENCH BY A RANDOM PARK LAKE****

_The timeline is set three months later. Alfred and Lovino are still engaged, and their wedding is still being planned._

**LOVINO:** _(to the camera)_ So uhh, Alfred's still addicted to Snapchat, but lately, with all the wedding planning, he hasn't touched his phone in a while. Unless it's to Google caterers or whatever. Pasta and burgers are so in the menu.

_ALFRED enters the scene, kissing LOVINO behind his ear. LOVINO swats ALFRED's kissy face away but welcomes the hug around his shoulders._

**ALFRED:** I'm currently trying to find a perfect convention, like a cathedral with a garden because we both like flowers.

 **LOVINO:** Francis is so not invited. That Frenchman Snapped me a picture of a smooshed tomato! Tomato cruelty! UNACCEPTABLE!

_ALFRED chuckles lightly, then joins LOVINO on the bench._

**ALFRED:** Hey sweetheart?

 **LOVINO:** What is it?

 **ALFRED:** _(shrugging)_ Err, I never did figure out what this video is for anyway. Yaknow, the one we're taking right now? Who are we even talking to? Are you the creator and script writer or is this all just in our heads?

_Sighing, LOVINO pinches one of ALFRED's cheeks and blinks blankly. A particular guitar strum is playing in the background... Oh no... no, no..._

**LOVINO:** To be honest, I don't know myself, love. All I know is—

_Said guitar strum soundtrack crescendos, and the "To Be Continued" meme screenshot is played. Perfect way to end the video, huh? ARSES._

.

.

 **NARRATOR:** Oh, wow I still have a part in this? Umm, okay, I'll just keep on stalling to keep earning more money.

But simply speaking, Snapchat can be good.

And can be bad.

The moral of the story is, seriously speaking, life is too short to spend on applications. Sure, it's fun and alleviates boredom but once in a while get out there and sniff the air.

No, do not Snap yourself sniffing the air then go back to what you are doing, you're missing the point.

But if you want a more blunt and nonsensical lesson to all this...

 _Don't get iPhones, kids_. Donations to me, however are much welcome.

PS: #PrayforAlfredandLovino2k16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I have no words.
> 
> I'm going to regret this sooner or later huh because, wow some fluff in my crack? I actually just wrote crack? AND ENDED IT WITH FLUFF?
> 
> OH MY GOODNESS?
> 
> I am not funny. To be continued, maybe? (no, self, stop STOOOOOOP!)


End file.
